


Work of art

by Robin11



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin11/pseuds/Robin11
Summary: Pansy Parkinson is used to being alone, and only getting close to a few select people. In situations, she's usually the one in control. So what happens when the girl she's been drawing for weeks now, shows up to her school and with her takes away all of her power? What happens, when the girl in question is probably the most amazing person hat's ever walked this earth? And what happens, when Hermione Granger completely and utterly hates her?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello beautiful people :) For the purpose of this fic, let's pretend Pansy was never xenophobic and never was a terrible person to Hermione. Just because I think they'd work super well together if the bully bullied dynamic was removed and Pansy was more of an actually decent person. Alright, enjoy!
> 
> Also I'm not JKR, so I don't own any of the characters. Or the setting. Or anything really, Yay.
> 
> For my sister, who told me my writing wasn't gay enough

Placing the earphones firmly in her ears Pansy Parkinson closed her eyes and leant back against the trunk of the tree, wondering how she was going to break the news to her friends. The soft, crooning voice of Celestina Warbeck rolled the tension out of her shoulders, and smoothed what had been rumpled up in her mind by her father's rant. It was perhaps her biggest secret: that Pansy Parkinson, the girl with the leather jackets and the studded eyebrow and the tattoo that everyone knew she had but kept changing location according to the person from whose mouth it came-listened to Celestina Warbeck, and had actually cried when she attended the concert a year ago. She'd gone alone, which might have been a little pathetic, but she stubbornly refused to care about things like that. Sooner or later everyone was alone. No one truly knew every inch of someone else's soul, so who really cared? Why was there such a giant stigma about doing things on your own, when really the only person that she could truly stand was herself? Millicent was irritating, (who even named their daughter Millicent?), Blaise and Daphne distant, Crabbe and Goyle idiots, and completely interchangeable, and even Draco, who she loved very dearly, was insufferable whenever anyone began about Potter, who he'd had a crush on ever since they started secondary. No, even Draco was an idiot. Who secretly crushed on someone for six years without doing anything? It was pathetic, but whenever she told him so he'd clam up and go bright red and she'd feel bad for pushing him. Not that she should feel bad, but Draco was like a kicked puppy in these matters, and goodness knows even she didn't hate puppies. Snorting at the thought of a puppy with Draco's face on it (he looked ridiculous enough as is, if he only let her do his hair but no, he was too good for her haircuts), she kneaded her hands into the grass and wove the stems between her fingers. A chill wind lifted the strands of hair around her chin, and involuntarily she shivered. Today, more than most days, she hated her parents. Her Dad had been fuming that she wanted to study art and had only applied to art schools. He doubtlessly wanted her to follow in his footsteps, and now she'd thrown a spanner in the works. Well boo fucking hoo. It was her life no? And her stepmother hadn't been any help either. Normally she was completely on board with her, but today she'd shaken her head as well and said she was worried that Pansy would end up 'poor and starving and pregnant.' When Pansy had raised her eyebrows she'd continued, 'I'm not going to pretend that your love child is your sister, even though that would be a massive compliment to my rocking bod.' Sometimes she needed to chill, her sarcasm was usually greatly appreciated, but today was not that day. It hurt her that the person she was closest to didn't even believe in her. Sighing, she turned the music louder, drowning out all the thoughts of her lack of confidence. She was Pansy Parkinson. Doubt was not in her vocabulary, unless it applied to other people. Other people sucked. Apart from Celestina, Tina always knew what she needed. Good old Tina. Settling back into the tree, Pansy drew a leg over the other and proceeded to sink into the music, drifting far away from it all...until something brought her back. The figure strode across the lawn to her, until he was too close for her to ignore anymore. Scowling, she tugged one ear out. 'What?' Her father exhaled loudly, betraying just how patient of a man he was to deal with his brat of a daughter.  
'Don't speak to me that way Pansy, you're not a child.' She was about to mimic him, but then realised that this would unfortunately prove his point. Choosing to huff instead, she arched her back and stretched, 'Whatever is the matter dear father?' Rolling his eyes at her tone he said,  
'Giselle has made dinner, we'd appreciate your presence.' His tone left no room for doubt, no matter how absurdly polite the words they were wrapped in. Sometimes she hated the wealth of her family, if only that it meant she had been raised on passive aggressiveness. It wasn't a particular strength of hers, she preferred to display her distaste in full view. But then again, she supposed that was one of the reasons why everyone was afraid of her. A smile curled her lips at the thought. Draco often called her a tarantula, terrifying if you knew nothing about her, but soft and fluffy when you looked deeper. She'd hit him with her biology textbook for the comment, but it had been touching all the same. Oh Goddess, she was going soft.  
Turning her mind idly from her inner train of thought she realised her father was still talking. Whoops. '-And I expect you to behave when they come around.' Wait, what? He sighed in frustration when he caught the blank look on her face. 'When my work associates come around for dinner next week, I expect you to behave. They may very well be able to get you into Hogwarts University. The business department there is excellent, we'll have you running the company before you know it.' Grinding her teeth she shot up from the ground. 'I'm not studying business. You know that.' A muscle worked in his jaw as she spoke, and when she'd finished, punctuating the sentence by crossing her arms across her chest he shook his head. 'We'll discuss this later.'  
'There's nothing to discuss. I'm not going. You can talk all you want but I won't listen.' Looking very much like he wanted to retort, he just breathed deeply through his nostrils, and turned towards the house. Stuffing the earphone back in her ear, she sauntered after him. 

Giselle noted the tension radiating off of their shoulders as they came in, and wisely just sat down and started serving herself. It was best to let both of them fill their stomachs before approaching whatever had happened between them.  
'So, who's having an omelette?' Pansy bit a smirk at the dinner Giselle had cooked for them. Her dishes consisted of omelettes and soup, these ones had been burnt a little around the edges, and when Pansy poked hers, a thin trickle of raw egg came pooling out onto her fork. Giselle however, was watching them, and Pansy quickly shoved hers into her mouth, ignoring the sliminess as it went down, and the burnt edges that scratched against her throat. After quickly washing everything down with water, Pansy crossed one leg over the other, and drew her fork across the rest of the omelette, as if the thought had just occurred to her, 'By the way, I'll be home late tomorrow.' Her father's hand tightened on his fork, but Giselle placed down her napkin, 'Why's that honey?'  
'Lucius bought new peacocks, apparently without Narcissa's knowledge and she's fuming. Draco's being forced to take them back, and I'm going to help him.' Giselle snorted,  
'Bring them here and we'll have peacock omelettes, mix them up a bit you know?' The joke was a bit too scary a concept for Pansy to fully laugh at, therefore her smile was rather fixed, but she appreciated the help. 'Draco, now there's a lovely boy.' Rolling her eyes, Pansy stabbed at her omelette, 'I'm just saying, is there anything happening there?'  
'Yup,' Pansy pointed her fork at Giselle, 'I'm getting started on that bastard for your body compliments.' She laughed,  
'Don't be silly Nic, our Pansy has got her eye on Millicent doesn't she? She's a very pretty girl, and you always hang out with her.' Pansy gagged just as her father said,  
'Millicent would be a lovely daughter-in-law. Very polite.' She shot her father a glance,  
'You can't be serious.'  
'She's always so polite,' he protested, 'You could do a lot worse.'  
'I could say the same to Giselle,'  
'Hey now, there was no need for that.' She would have snapped back, but her father's tone was joking, he'd clearly not been hurt, and it was best to leave it that way.  
'Sorry Giselle, I in no way meant to imply that you are way out of his league.' She shrugged,  
'We both know that. He seems to have a talent for it though, your mother was out of his league as well. Wayyyy out.' Pansy stopped herself from asking more. Her mother had died when she was one whilst protesting against the Death Eaters. She'd apparently been outlawed by her entire family because of it, which was the reason why Pansy didn't know her grandparents. When she was younger, Pansy had begged for stories about her, but after a while it became too strange. She'd never known the woman, didn't resemble her at all, and had Giselle. What was the point in searching for a connection that wasn't there? It was like yelling down the receiver of an empty line, her mother didn't hear, so what was the point in hurting herself? Besides, she'd never known the woman, and how could you miss someone that had never even been there? You couldn't. It was idiotic, moronic, and if there was one thing Pansy wasn't, it was stupid. She didn't waste time being all moony eyed over the boys and girls being in her class, or letting her emotions get the better of her (despite what Draco fucking said, she was NOT driven by her emotions, what did he know?). Realising the conversation had moved on, Pansy finished the omelette and stood up, 'I have homework.' Giselle nodded, and gave her a kind smile. Loading her plate into the dishwasher Pansy pretended not to hear her father sigh and go, 'Art is not a healthy profession. She'll never have any money.'  
'We can't force her to do anything, it's her decision Nic.'  
'I know, I know that. It's just, sometimes I can't help but want her to be...'  
'Nic.'  
'I know, but it's like she's not even her daughter you know? Pansy marches to the beat of her own drum, and I get that, but with her looking so much like me, it would just. It would be so nice to-'  
'Nic stop it.'  
'You were her best friend, don't tell me you're not searching too.' There was a hesitation, and deciding she'd heard quite enough, Pansy shoved the dishwasher closed and ran up stairs. 

Plopping onto her bed, she rolled over and checked her phone.

Coco  
\- u up for peacock duty tomorrow? 

Letting everything she'd heard fall from her shoulders, she smirked and typed back

\- definitely coco, u can count on me

-stop calling me that I swear

-never, it's so cute

-I hate u

-that seems to be a common sentiment today 

She typed it without thinking, cursing herself she watched as the three dots bounced up and down, jiggling her nerves.

-ur dad being annoying again? 

Leaning her forehead against the phone, she thought very carefully, before biting her lip and typing

-doesn't like my choice of profession, or me being single, or not being like my mum, lol good times

He sent her a little gif of a tarantula

-screw him, ur going 2 be an artist, super scary pansy doesn't spend time with haters 

She scoffed but there was a hint of fondness. He was so totally clueless...but what had she expected him to say? Sorry you're nothing like your dead mum? Sorry everyone always looks at you like you're missing something? Sorry she was apparently so perfect nothing could ever come close to her? Groaning, she chucked her phone across the bed and buried her face in her hands. Painting. It was time to paint. Pushing herself off the bed she grabbed her brushes and twisted her hair into a knot on the top of her head as best as she could. Her dark brown hair just brushed her chin from where she had let Blaise cut it two weeks ago. Picking up the canvass she'd been working on for a week now, she took a deep breath, and started filling in the pencil strokes. 

'Pansy...Pansy. You need to get up now, you're going to be late.' Groaning, Pansy twisted in her sheets, blinking groggily at Giselle, who had her hands on her hips. 'Did you stay up late painting again?' she demanded. Frowning, Pansy wondered how she knew,  
'Um...no?' Giselle rolled her eyes and leaned forward,  
'You've got paint all over your face and arms, nice try nimrod.' Pansy struggled to a seating position,  
'Well that's not very nice.' Sticking her tongue out at her-because Giselle was a mature adult- she moved to the back of the room where the easel was, and peered at it. Heart racing, Pansy watched her, her spine straight as a rod. Would she like it? Or would she think it was stupid, a worthless pursuit. Oblivious to the stress she was causing her daughter, Giselle turned her head this way and that before saying, 'Who is it?' A neutral tone. Nothing to suggest admiration, or anything else. Frowning, Pansy scratched the back of her neck, 'I don't know,' she admitted carefully, 'Just someone.' Giselle nodded knowingly,  
'Like in a dream?' Pansy reddened,  
'No, I haven't been having sex dreams about a girl and then drawing her.' Laughing, Giselle shook her head,  
'I never said they were sexual. But fine, keep your secrets.' And turning around she tapped her fondly on the nose, 'And make sure you shower, you look adorable, but I doubt you'd want to show up at school like this.' Pansy scowled at her. 

She was late. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes late. But let's be honest, she wasn't going to rush and get herself all sweaty. Goodness knows school sucked enough without her having to deal with it smelling like a teenager. Gross. Sauntering in, she ignored the exasperated look her tutor, Snape, was giving her and slid into the seat Draco had saved for her. 'I almost thought you weren't coming,' he remarked, doodling something on a piece of paper before sliding it over to Crabbe, who chuckled delightedly. Idiot. Rolling her eyes Pansy leant back in her chair, 'What, and miss all this?' Draco smirked at her,  
'Guess not.' Daphne Greengrass leaned forward, her large blue eyes brimming with information.  
'There's someone new.' Pansy quirked an eyebrow,  
'Someone new? We're half-way through the term.' Daphne shrugged,  
'Apparently her parents got this new job, and had to move as quickly as possible.' Millicent considered something, then asked,  
'What neighbourhood is she from?' Pansy had to stop herself from smacking her across the face. Daphne, unaware of Pansy's violent fantasies about said elitist classmate just raised one shoulder, 'I don't know. She's in Gryffindor.' Draco snapped up at that, he was so pathetic. Anything that could possibly be tracked to Potter.  
'Name?' Daphne did her one-arm shrug again. Goyle leaned forward, eyes bright,  
'Pretty?' Pansy wrinkled her nose in disgust as Draco jokingly leaned over to smack him,  
'She's a Gryffindor, don't even think about it.' No one pointed out his obvious hypocritical taste for certain boys with green eyes and black hair. Blaise scoffed,  
'I wouldn't be seen dead with a Gryffindor,'  
'Then it's lucky none of them like you,' Pansy replied sweetly, and Blaise sniffed at her.  
'Don't be sour Parkinson, if you wanted me all you had to do was ask.'  
'God, you just reek of desperation, don't you?' Blaise just rolled his eyes, not dignifying her response with an answer. Draco smirked again,  
'Sorry Blaise, looks like a pretty face doesn't get you everything.'  
'Not that you would know.' Draco's pale cheeks blushed a furious red,  
'Tell you what, you arsehol-'  
'When you have all quite finished your sniping.' The room fell silent, and Draco moodily pushed himself back in his chair as Snape glared at all of them, his greasy hair falling over his eyes. Pansy grimaced at the sight, would it kill him to wash it? Mondays were bad enough without having to deal with Snape's hair and Millicent's face. Snape curled his lip as his eyes scanned the room...and landed on her. 'That skirt is not regulation Miss Parkinson.' She wasn't dealing with this bullshit. The skirt was gorgeous, and had taken her the better part of a month to make. She could wear whatever the fuck she wanted to wear and wear it with pride.  
'Why are you looking there sir?' The room fell silent. Daphne met her eye and shook her head imperceptibly, it wasn't worth it to rile Snape up today. His sneer became more pronounced as he answered, 'You arrogance is astounding, if you wanted to try that again, then perhaps take your legs off the table before you say it. It might underline your argument better.' Gritting her teeth, she crossed her ankles. What an asshole, 'Twenty points from Slytherin for the skirt, and the remark. Perhaps it would be a useful lesson,' he leaned his hands on the table, his cold black eyes meeting hers, 'to remember that the people who get far in life, are those who keep their mouths SHUT.' With that he swept her legs off the table, then turned to the front of the classroom. Trying to shrug it off, Pansy grabbed the charm on her necklace and pulled it back and forth along her neck. Daphne caught her eye again, then turned to the front, 'I think it looks hot Professor. Perhaps you should try one, it would be a welcome change after those teacher robes, no?' Pansy had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing, as Snape turned around. 'Ten points from Slytherin as well. Anyone else feel the need to speak up?' His eyes stared menacingly about the class. Daphne just sat back, but her eyes sought Pansy's. With her eyes she thanked her as much as she could, and Daphne gave her one armed shrug in response. Pansy's hand dropped from the necklace, and her hand lazily drifted into the air. Snape's expression didn't move a muscle, 'Yes?' Tens of Paris of eyes looked at her, waiting in apprehension with what crazy Parkinson would say next. What would she do to get herself kicked out of the class? Snorting she shook her hair out of her eyes, they all thought they knew her so well.  
'It's nine o'clock. I just wanted to make sure I'm not missing out on my valuable education.'  
'Ten more points.' There was a collective groan but she didn't care. Snape stared at the rest of them, 'Well, what are you all waiting for? Get to where you're supposed to be.' They all scattered.

Slinging her bag on her chair, Pansy rolled her bracelet up her arm. Daphne took the seat next to her, sharpening her pencils as she set them in perfect lines next to her notebook. 'I think I'm cutting my skirts shorter. How did you do yours?' Daphne didn't look any her as she said it, but the smile curved on pansy's face all the same. She felt the meaning of her words. 'Any scissors really, I can do one of yours and show you.'  
'That would be nice.' Pansy nodded, then busied herself with grabbing her own books out of her bag. Daphne knocked her arm against hers.  
'What?'  
'I think that's her.' Pansy sat up,  
'The new girl?' Daphne nodded, slicking back a strand of blond hair. Pansy's eyes darted in her direction. 

Sucking in a breath, she felt like there were bands constricting her chest. She tried to breathe in, but her chest was refusing to let her take in air. Her eyes bulged, as all she could do was keep watching and watching, drinking her in, noting her beauty. But it was more than that. It was that everything, from her cloud of black hair to her thick eyebrows, her slender fingers and the tip of her nose, to her warm brown eyes, was familiar. It was the most surreal thing in the world, to watch her artwork come to life. How had the girl she'd been painting for over a week, carefully blending in the browns of her skin until she got the shade just right, come to life? This wasn't possible. it couldn't happen. Daphne dropped her gaze from the girl, 'Pansy.' Air flooded through her body, ballooning her lungs until she felt drunk on excess, indulging herself, devouring the air greedily until she felt like she might burst. 'Pansy.' The tone was harder this time.  
'Yes?' Why did her voice sound like that. Daphne gave her a strange look,  
'Are you ok? You look like you know her.' Shaking her head so vigorously that her necklace hit her in the nose, Pansy denied the accusation. Rubbing the sore spot, stupid charm, she said, 'No, no I definitely don't.'  
'Ok.' She turned back to her notebook.

Professor Vector swept in, noticed the new girl, and smiled, adjusting her glasses. 'Hello my dear. Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?' The girl turned bright red and shook her head vehemently, not unlike Pansy had just done. She found herself smiling against her better judgement, then reprimanded herself for being so foolish. Trying to drop her head like Daphne was doing, she started to write the date. But it was impossible, how could anyone care about the date when this girl, this girl was standing right in front of her. She couldn't tear her eyes away. Professor vector nodded, her mind clearly occupied, 'Alright. Everyone, this is Hermione Granger. She's new.' Pansy was so entranced by the way her name sounded that she didn't even sarcastically reflect upon Vector's stellar observation. 'You can take a seat now,' she added kindly, and turned to the board. Hermione scanned the room quickly with her eyes like melted honey-what was WRONG WITH HER- and quickly dropped into a seat. At the front of the class. It was strangely adorable. This wasn't good. This just didn't happen to Pansy. She wasn't going to get all moony eyed because this girl had appeared, and seemed to embody art. That was it, Hermione was like art. Horrified, Pansy turned to the board and started working on the first problem, she needed to get this out of her system, and quickly.

But Hermione was in practically all of her classes, and she never spoke, only quietly sat at the front and did her work. Much faster than anyone else she had to admit. She flew through the work with a passion that was catching. Well, not that it caused Pansy to pay more attention in lessons, but it was entertaining to watch her determined expression as her pen flew across the page, and her hand shot up for more. Hermione Granger. The name was mythical, that much Pansy knew, but perhaps that wasn't new. All the rich people from her school had named their children unconventional names. Draco for example-what kind of name was that? Millicent, Gregory, even Pansy. It wasn't exactly common. Apparently she'd been named that because they were her mum's favourite flower, and according to Giselle, her mum's eyes were the exact shade of blue as the flower. It was another reminder of what she couldn't live up to. Scrunching her nose, Pansy moved her thoughts to something more enjoyable, for example, the way that Draco was trying and failing to conceal his experiment exploding, and the way that Snape was at the front of the room, harping on Potter. What his problem was with the boy she'd never know, although she had noticed that whenever his mum came in to school Snape turned into the sweetest man in the room, even going so far as to pat Potter on the head once. It was the strangest thing. Not that his mum seemed to notice, she always took care to avoid him in parent-teacher talks.  
Swearing, Draco couldn't conceal the bubbling froth that started to spill over the floor, and raised his hand. Snape flew over immediately, like he'd seen what had been happening. Draco was a rare favourite with him, and he barely scolded him as he ordered him to clean it up, and took the experiment from the fire. 'When you're finished chuckling, perhaps you can help your desk partner.' He sneered at Pansy, who replied,  
'I'm watching my own.' Peering into her beaker he snorted.  
'I see, well I'll give it an A. There, now you're ready to help.'  
'It's not even done.'  
'I say it's done, and I'm the professional.' It wasn't worth going further, it wasn't like she cared about chemistry anyway, but that bastard couldn't do this to her and force her to accept it. 'The professional? I wasn't aware they handed out awards for secondary school teaching.' Hermione's eyebrows quirked in surprise at her big mouth, and Pansy couldn't help feeling like she'd gone too far for a moment. But then her hair fell over her face as she bent over her own experiment and the moment had passed. Snape crossed his arms, 'It seems our Miss Parkinson is desperate for a visit to Dumbledore.' She had been dismissed. Chucking her apron on the desk she clicked past him in her heels,  
'I'll tell him you said hi, shall I?' 

She didn't bother going to Dumbledore. Snape always forgot to check up on instances such as these, and she didn't feel like a rant from such an old fool. Ok, perhaps Dumbledore wasn't stupid, but he was weak. He used others and hid behind the shield of 'good deeds' in order to justify it. It was despicable, and she didn't condone it. So instead she just lounged against her locker with her sketchpad, and started drawing whatever came into her mind.  
Unfortunately, all she could draw were a pair of dark eyes, curly hair and the expressive eyebrows. Shutting her book with a groan, she sank to the floor. She wasn't getting anywhere. What was happening to her? She'd never felt bad about giving Snape lip, he deserved it. So why was this girl making her feel different? She didn't even know her. She needed to stop this. Ripping the page out of her sketchbook, she shoved it into her locker and started anew, this time tracing the outline of the hallway around her. The empty corridor, the shiny floors and the different pastel coloured classroom doors. Lines blurred her vision until she was lost in the image, carefully filling in the outlines of her world, forcing it to spin into order, with her in control of the movements. 

'Miss Granger? Is there a problem?' The door slammed open as Hermione Granger walked in, clutching her bag tightly, her mouth wired and her eyebrows drawn. Pansy pulled herself away from her sketch of the doe eyed bird in the middle of the room. Startled, as if she'd just noticed everyone watching her and the hush falling over the room, Hermione hunched her shoulders a little and dropped her eyes. 'I...I'm not meant to be in this class, I think there was a timetable mistake. But they say it's too late to rectify.' Professor Moody, a retired police chief who had apparently taken the job for some 'tranquility of mind' narrowed his one eye at her. 'What are you standing around for then? Sit down.' Hermione's eyes widened, but she dropped into a seat and busied herself by rummaging in her bag, but her mouth was still scrunched in displeasure, and Pansy couldn't help but notice the tension in her shoulders. A rush of sympathy flushed through her, but she reprimanded herself for allowing herself to lose focus, and turned back to her drawing. Only it was harder to focus now, and the more she drew the more her bird started to look oddly human, especially the eyes. 'A little animatronic Parkinson, try and stick to what you see in front of you.' Jumping, she cursed Moody for coming up right behind her.  
'This is what I see, artists' interpretation.'  
'Don't sass me. Draw what you see.' Huffing, she rubbed out the eyes and started over, peering intently at the strange dead bird with its big beady eyes.  
For a while they all worked in silence, apart from the awful music that Moody played in the background that was supposed to 'soothe', when really all it did was ruffle feathers. Pansy traced and coloured, drawing the pen in soft lines across the page, and when she was done with the bird, started to fill in the background. She loved drawing people she knew, it was so amusing, what you saw when you looked closer. She caught the way Marietta Edgecombe always had one eye on Terry Boot, who sighed a lot as he drew, and how Lavender Brown was clearly not enjoying herself, as her eyes slowly grew wider the worse her drawing became-and then relaxed again at Parvati's grin, who was making as big a, if not bigger, mess of it. She sketched the edge of Mandy Brocklehurts's pale brown hair, and the corner of Wayne Hopkins's easel, the curve of Ernie Macmillan's foot, and Dean Thomas' bag. Careful on the details of the zip, and the way the bag sagged to the left, Pansy didn't even notice it had happened until she heard a shriek. 

Immediately dropping her pencil she spun around, only to see Hermione clutch at her chest as Moody surveyed her work. Noticing everyone staring she mumbled, 'Sorry.' It was the most adorable thing ever. A rush of laughter ran through the room and clenching her jaw, Pansy stopped herself from flipping them all off. Couldn't they see how embarrassed she was? As if they were so bloody perfect.  
After what seemed like five minutes, Moody finally said, 'Well, you gave it a shot. That's all anyone can really ask for.' Hermione's face burned again as the laughter returned. Sneering, Pansy spoke up, 'Anyone who makes one more sound will die. I'd like some fucking peace and quiet to counteract the overwhelming stench of mediocrity in this room, thanks.' Moody whipped towards her,  
'What?' she jutted out her chin defiantly, 'I said thanks.' Unlikely as it seemed, Moody liked her. Perhaps it was because she was actually good at his subject, or because whatever she said she usually did it without thinking. Or he just really hated all the other students, and anyone who intimidated them were perfect in his eyes. Whatever the reason, his severe bias towards her made him overlook the incident, whereas he would have cracked down hard on anyone else who dared to swear in front of him. A rare smile twitched his lips as he said, 'Five points to Slytherin for defending a classmate, however strangely it was worded.' Relief washed over her as she rolled her eyes, she didn't really feel like pissing off yet another adult today. When she caught Hermione's eye, expecting to see something akin to gratefulness, she only saw untempered hatred. Shocked, her hand sprang to the charm on her throat. What had she done to inspire such hatred in the girl? Was it something she'd said. Racking her brains she perished the thought; she hadn't said anything to the girl apart from just now, and even then it wasn't really directly to her. Was it her pride? Something to do with the fact that she needed to be protected? Ice flooded her veins unconsciously: she'd stuck out her neck for a student and this was the thanks she got? What was her problem? Did she even know how little Pansy ever did for anybody, how lucky she was that Pansy had even said anything at all? What a brat. If Hermione didn't like her, then she could give as good as she got, and meeting her eye, she reciprocated the steely glare, even throwing in a little sarcastic finger wave before turning back to her sketch. Breathing in deeply, she ignored the way her stomach ached at the fact that this girl, the girl she'd been drawing, was not real. The girl she'd been drawing was warm and kind and would never have hated her. Hermione was not that girl. It was just a fluke that they looked similar, nothing more, nothing less. She'd been so deluded. 

It was lunch, and Pansy had been happily listening to Draco's anecdote about his father's peacocks when he saw Daphne leave, and stretched his arms. 'Ah, never mind. I'll tell you later ok?' Pansy rolled her eyes, Draco had recently started smoking, joining Daphne in the habit and was always leaving during lunch. 'You could come you know.' Pansy wrinkled her nose,  
'No thanks, I'd rather not smell like smoke for the rest of the day.' Draco scoffed,  
'Thanks mate,'  
'Just telling it like it is.' He shrugged his shoulders, and moved towards Daphne and Crabbe and Goyle (because they did everything Draco did). Giving her a little salute he exited the room, leaving her alone with Blaise and Millicent. Wonderful. Snapping forward in his seat, Blaise muttered in a low tone, 'Did you see the new girl?' Pansy rolled her eyes but answered,  
'Yeah, like every day for the past two weeks. She's in most of my classes.' Nodding, Blaise sat back,  
'What do you think?' Pansy raised an eyebrow,  
'What do I think?'  
'Come on, you have an opinion about everybody.'  
'Doesn't everyone?' He huffed in frustration, then switched tactics,  
'I've seen you staring at her. You'd like to fuck her, wouldn't you? You'd like to have her on her knees, wouldn't you?' Millicent's eyes widened as Pansy leant across the table and grabbed him by the collar,  
'Come again?' she seethed, baring her teeth. A hush fell over the cafeteria as they all stopped their gossiping to stare. Bets slid from not just a few hands as to who would win in this standoff. Pansy was feared, but Blaise was no picnic either among his peers. She had been expecting him to immediately cower, but instead he decided to test her by giving a throaty laugh, 'You think I'm scared of you Parkinson? You forget who my mother is, I was raised around dangerous, beautiful women.' Red hot rage rushed to her head, but she was better cool, always better when she had calmed. Giving herself a few seconds to allow the rational part of her brain to slide over the anger like a fat python, smothering it, she hissed back. 'You grew up with a dangerous beautiful woman who loved you. There is quite a difference.' He remained impassive,  
'Do your worst.' He really shouldn't have said that. Now he'd backed her into a corner. And if there was one thing Pansy never did, it was back down. A feral glint lit up the curve of her mouth, releasing his collar she stepped back.  
'Alright everyone' she yelled, facing the crowd. 'You heard the man, place your bets.' No one moved, terrified of what she would do next. Catching Blaise's eye, she winked at him once before turning back, 'What do we think Zabini likes more: his reputation, or his pride?' Again, no movement. Everyone's eyes crept to where Blaise was perched, his arms crossed. Turning back to him she sweetly asked, 'Which one?'  
'You choose.' Blowing him a kiss she gathered up her bag and tossed it over her shoulder.  
'Alright then, last month Zabini slept with Ginny Weasley in the school gym.' Ignoring his look of outrage, she cheerfully sidestepped all the gaping mouths and left the room, the doors swinging shut behind her. 

Zabini had not forgiven her after school, when they were all lounging on the grounds, waiting for Millicent to be done with her football practice. 'I can't believe you told everyone that.'  
'I'm not apologising Zabini, if you're going to be ashamed of the women you're sleeping with, then you shouldn't be sleeping with them at all.' He snarled at her,  
'All I suggested was that you liked the new girl.'  
'You don't ever talk about my sexual exploitation's, or hers for that matter.' He glared at her,  
'I was having a bit of a laugh, it wasn't serious.'  
'I'm sure. It was really funny. Ha. Ha.' Moodily he opened his maths textbook and started reading, leaving her to pick at her nail polish, it was staring to flake off, she really needed to change colours. There was only so long one could have blood red nails for, she was thinking of maybe going black, or try something completely different and have fuchsia pink. 

'Honey, I loved this one. Why is it in the trash?' Pansy looked up from where she was making a sandwich. Giselle was holding the half finished painting of Hermione, Pansy's stomach squirmed. 'I don't like it anymore, it was rubbish.' A crease formed between her eyebrows as she smoothed it out,  
'Well I don't think so. I'm going to keep it then, it's a shame to throw things like this away.' Rolling her eyes, Pansy shoved the long back into its bread box. Then something hit her, 'Giselle?'  
'Mm?' She was still studying her painting and Pansy had to shut her mouth to stop herself from telling her to just chuck it for God's sake. Her hand springing to her necklace, she asked, 'What do you do when someone...when people hate you, and you don't know why?' At Giselle's surprised expression Pansy shut off, grabbing her sandwich she made her way to the stairs. What was she even thinking, doing any of this? This wasn't like her, this wasn't Pansy. 'Well,' Pansy stopped on the stairs, her face heated but her heart racing. 'It depends really, why do you think this person hates you?' When Pansy turned around, Giselle's eyes were soft, 'I don't know.' Her voice was hoarse, 'I haven't even spoken to them.' Giselle held out her arms and Pansy went into them. She didn't appreciate hugs as a rule, but for a few people she always made an exception. Wrapping her arms firmly around her, Giselle smoothed back her hair, 'Well then maybe that's your problem. Just speak to them, find out what's wrong.' Pansy let out a humourless laugh,  
'Yeah, and look like a fool.'  
'Everyone has to look like a fool sometimes, if you're not vulnerable you never get close to people.' Pansy pulled back,  
'Is that how you and father got together?' Giselle's hands stiffened around her, but a smile was quickly drawn over her face.  
'That's a bit more of a complicated story hon. But I suppose vulnerability had something to do with it.'  
'What?'  
'Why don't I tell you about your mother and him instead? There are a lot of lessons there.' Pansy frowned,  
'I wasn't asking about them, I was asking about you.'  
'Yes,' Giselle's hand sprang to her forehead, 'Yes, I know.' A weary grief settled in her expression, and Pansy's stomach tightened. Why didn't she want to talk about it? What reason could she have for deflecting things onto her mother? Unless...unless she still felt guilty about her marrying her dead best friend's husband. That she could understand. Placing a hand on Giselle's face, Pansy kissed her on the cheek. 'Thank you. I'll give it a try some time or other.' Giselle blinked the sadness out of her eyes, 'Does this have something to do with the girl you drew?' Pansy turned her face away so she wouldn't see her cheeks.  
'...No.'  
'Hmm.'  
'If it did...I'd be a bit creepy, wouldn't I? Painting some girl who hates me.' Giselle's eyes rounded with memory, and when she spoke her voice was oddly light and thoughtful,  
'Not really, we all turn a bit strange with love.' She was getting into one of her wistful moods, where she'd brew herself a cup of tea and just sit and think all day. Pansy decided it was best to leave her alone. 'Thank you, goodbye.' Giselle didn't seem to have heard her, but as she turned to walk up the stairs she got a response,  
'Goodbye Ambrosia.'  
Pansy hurried up the stairs so she wouldn't see her cry.

Everything she drew was wrong, everything she painted had the hint of an eyelash, a curl hanging infant of the ear, escaped from its bun as the day dragged on. Everything she drew had Hermione in it, and she didn't even know why. She hadn't even talked to the girl once. But enough was enough, and as Pansy pulled on her black boots in the morning she made up her mind. She was going to confront this girl once and for all.

Storming her way down the halls, year sevens scattering in her wake, Pansy found her way to where Hermione was calmly sitting, writing something in a notebook as Weasley and Potter frantically texted each other for their next exam. Coming to a stop right in front of her, Pansy placed her hands on her hips. Potter and Weasley nervously shifted, glancing at each other but Hermione just shut her book calmly, looking up at her. 'Yes?'  
'What is your problem?' The aggressive question clearly hadn't been what she was expecting, as she shoved her notebook into her bag and pulled up her left sock with one hand.  
'I'm sorry?' Her voice was lovely, gentle and lyrical and-but she didn't have time to get into that right now.  
'I said, what is your problem? I see your snotty little looks at me, glaring at me when I helped you in art that day. Now, seeing as I've actually been more than civil to you, I feel like I require an explanation.' Potter and Weasley were still gaping like a pair of identical fish. Idiots. Standing up, Hermione drew herself to her full height, which was a quite a decent amount taller than Pansy. Determined not to be intimidated, even if it meant she was now incredibly close to the girl, Pansy set her jaw. 'I don't have a problem necessarily. I just don't like you.' Pansy was taken aback by her honesty. She really had to admire it, or she would have, had it not been so incredibly painful to hear those words.  
'I'm sorry?'  
'Look, I see what you do, and don't think I don't know you. You play with other people's fear because it makes you feel powerful. You like saying outlandish things and watching people struggle with how to react. You build yourself up to be all cool and mysterious so that you can feel superior, when really you're more insecure than any of us, and are just trying to stay safe from the hurt of opening yourself up to people. Well, I know your type and I had to deal with enough shit from girls like you in my last school, so I'm not going to afford you the same civility I did to them, it only wastes my time.' Ok. Hold up. That was a lot. What had this girl gone through in her last school to make her think it was ok to give her a full blown fucking psychological report? Feeling the familiar rage burn through her veins, Pansy sneered,  
'Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot I was dealing with a psychologist. You know me do you Granger? Well then riddle me this, won't you.' In hindsight it was probably the stupidest thing she could have done but all she could see was red, blood red, carmine, everywhere because stupid fucking Hermione Granger was taking her heart and stamping on it with those flats of hers, and goodness knows she already had so little of a heart that it really couldn't survive this. Without thinking for even one second, because one second would have been enough to stop her dead in her tracks, Pansy pulled out her sketchbook and revealed the pages and pages of drawings she'd done. All of them Hermione. Every. Single. One. 

To Pansy, who could only hear the thudding of her heart, pulsing on the pages as Hermione took in every inch of every stroke, the whole hallway turned silent, and everything else but the two of them just disappeared. To everyone else, luckily, they hand't noticed what Pansy was showing, or that something was even happening between the two girls, and they all just chattered about eagerly, worrying about tests or if Hooch secretly was legally married to a football (statistically very unlikely). To Harry and Ron, who could just glimpse over Hermione's shoulder what was being shown, they were the most uncomfortable they had ever been. Trading awkward glances, Harry tried to look like he hadn't noticed anything whilst Ron was gaping open-mouthed. For Hermione, the sky was falling around her.  
She'd pretended not to notice the way the girl in the back row had stared at her when she'd first entered. Everything about the girl seemed to be sharp, a clear cut bone structure, hair that stopped abruptly and harshly at her jawline and dark eyes that for the moment had seemed the only soft thing about her. She'd had a million bracelets and rings, all silver and green to match her school skirt and jumper, with her tie wrapped around her wrist, joining the set. Her eyebrow was pierced with a stud, and from the way she was looking at her, like she was going to be sick, made Hermione resolved to hate her. I mean, who could be so rude on the first day? She'd known her type exactly, they pretended to be nice when really they were just mocking you behind your back. Everything about them was intimidating and perfect, a girl that you couldn't believe was real, a girl who seemed destined for a higher plane. But she was really just an insecure bitch, like the rest of them. She'd sensed the pattern when she'd looked at her with such distaste, and then proceeded to 'save her' in art. It was the first sign of her trying to be friendly, only so she could ridicule her when she wasn't looking. Girls like that always picked on studious girls like her. It was a game. Because she was naive and dreamy they thought she was fair game, and they enjoyed the thrill of the chase so much. So what if everything about Pansy seemed to draw you in? If her comments were both daring and hilarious, if her strength was beautiful, if she seemed like an incredibly interesting person to get to know? So what if her laugh never failed to make her smile, and that she drew like she was breathing? It all didn't matter, because Pansy was not a girl to be trusted. Look at the way she'd spilled Blaise's secret in the cafeteria, look at the way she lifted her eyebrow whenever she talked back to teachers, which was often. Pansy was bad news, and she wasn't going to let herself be drawn in by something like that. It was ridiculous. It was preposterous. So why now did she feel like the biggest idiot in the world, staring at hundreds of drawings of her, all her, love infused with each line? What on earth was happening. It was unfathomable. This didn't happen...so why was it?

Pansy waited. And waited. And waited. The seconds fell down the steps of time, falling, falling, falling, until they converged in a pool around her feet. All that she could see was Hermione's stunned expression, until she finally, finally stammered. 'Why did you draw me?' Feeling the full extent of what she had done, Pansy slowly closed the sketchbook, cursing herself for being so stupid. She had done what Giselle told her, she had been vulnerable, but she had done it in such an idiotic way, she was sure that bards would compose a song about it. Sung for years and years afterwards, 'And lo and behold, she showed her heart, but the girl ran away because she'd been a stupid tart', or something along those lines. She was so pathetic. Why did she even think this would work. 'Um.' And for the first time in her life, Pansy didn't have an answer. Shoving the sketchbook back into her bag, she took off down the hallway and ran out of school, all the way home.

Giselle looked up as the door banged, 'Darling, what's wrong, why are you home so early?' Turning around to give her a casual answer, like she didn't feel well or something, Pansy was alarmed to feel her eyes filling with tears. She couldn't even get the first word out before she started sobbing. 'Oh honey.' Giselle joined her on the floor and wrapped her arms around her. 'I'm sure it's fine, I'm sure everything is absolutely fine.'  
'I've...been....s-so....stupid.' She gulped, snot streaming down her face.  
'Shh darling, no you haven't. Trust me, I've known you for many many years now, and I've never known you to be stupid.'  
'But I have...I....I showed...Giselle she hates me.'  
'Well then she doesn't deserve you, does she?' Giselle's cupped her face in her hands, 'Any girl or guy for that matter, who cannot see you for how absolutely loveable you are has np place in your life.' Pansy kept on sobbing, feeling the shards of her heart as they poked into her sides. Why was she so stupid? Hermione hadn't even had a valid reason for not liking her and she bared her heart to her. What kind of an idiot did that? Giselle brushed her hair behind her ear, and then stiffened.  
'What's that?' Pansy met her eyes, understanding her,  
'My tattoo.'  
'What is it? It's a droplet of...'  
'Nectar.'  
'Nec-?' Her eyes darkened with understanding.  
'Ambrosia.'  
'I don't know why I did it.' She started crying harder now, and when she looked at Giselle, she saw she was crying too.  
'It's ok babe, it's ok. Love makes you do all sorts of things. It's ok. It's ok.' She kept repeating that, over and over and over and over until her own tears cut her off.  
'I don't want this, I don't want to feel like this.'  
'I know, I know.'  
'Why do I feel like this?'  
'I know, I know.'

Wiping her face clean with a washcloth, Pansy stared deep into her eyes and took a deep breath. She was ready to start a new day. She'd thrown out all her drawings of Hermione, ready for a fresh start. So what if she'd humiliated herself? So what if she felt the worst she'd felt in a long time? She was here, and she was ready for a new day. She was herself, with her body and her personality and her outlook on life and that was enough for her. If it wasn't enough for Hermione then...here she faltered for a moment, before berating herself. She was Pansy Fucking Parkinson. And that meant everything. Everyone got their heart broken, everyone loved again. Life didn't end because love had. Satisfied, she drew her eyeliner over both eyes before giving herself a dazzling smile. New day Parkinson. Go kick ass. 

Daphne met her at the gate, putting out her cigarette, Pansy eyed it carefully. 'Those kill you, you know?' Daphne regarded her with amusement,  
'Rather a touching sentiment for the morning. You have something to say?' Pansy shook her head, a finger touching her necklace.  
'Just rather not see you die. You're kind of tolerable.' Daphne grinned, and for the first time Pansy didn't feel like she was so distant anymore.  
'Alright calm with the theatrics before Snape sees me cry,'  
'I never knew you to be so emotional,'  
'Must be all the smoking.' Pansy smirked, and together they both walked into Hogwarts.

The day was going alright. Hermione hadn't looked at her at all, but who gave a fuck what she thought? She didn't need her validation. In a completely neutral way of looking at things, the drawings had been beautiful, and all it was was a massive compliment to her. Wincing, Pansy backtracked, she wasn't quite there yet. When the class left for lunch after maths, Pansy hung back, motioning for Daphne to go on without her. Professor Vector had her head in an equation, and didn't notice that Pansy was still in the room when she left it. Good. Sitting on the table, Pansy placed her head in her hands for a moment, and let herself just feel for a moment. if she was honest, she could really use some Celestina Warbeck right now, Tina's voice would make everything alright again. 'Pansy?' Her head shot out of her hands, and she stared at the girl standing infant of her.  
'Can we talk?' Swallowing, Pansy said,  
'It's a free country.' But there wasn't as much conviction behind the statement as there usually was. Nodding, Hermione pulled out the chair of the desk Pansy was situated on and sat down. For a moment she just sat there, drumming her fingers, before she finally gathered up the courage to say, 'They were beautiful.' Pansy started, then tried to play it off like it hand't happened at all.  
'Thank you. I think so.' Hermione nodded, twisting her fingers around and around, avoiding Pansy's eyes, until she sighed angrily.  
'Are you going to keep being silent?' Pansy scoffed,  
'Excuse me? You're expecting me to sit here and entertain you with stimulating conversation?'  
'Well it would be something,' Hermione lashed back, standing up with her eyes flashing, 'You're normally so outspoken and now you're all quiet? Tell me why you drew me.'  
'I think it's a little obvious, is it not? A smart girl like you should have worked it out by now.'  
'Don't do that. Just tell me honestly.' Pansy's smirk faltered, and her hand jumped to her necklace. Her face getting softer, Hermione said,  
'You do that whenever you're insecure. Why are you insecure?' Pansy dropped her hand awkwardly,  
'I'm not.'  
'You showed me your art, surely you can't be shy in front of me anymore.' Fury rose in Pansy,  
'Well I am.'  
'Well stop it. I don't want you to be.'  
'Well forgive me, I forgot I had to do whatever her highness ordered-'  
'-Pansy.' She fell silent. Drawing in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and said in a rushed whisper,  
'I know it sounds impossible. But I started drawing something new, a week before you came. It was my best piece of art yet, I was totally entrenched in it. And then you came, and it was like my painting had come to life.' Opening one eye hesitantly, she saw Hermione's forehead crease.  
'Wait. Is that why you looked at me like that?' Pansy coloured,  
'You saw that?'  
'It's why I hated you. I hadn't done anything to warrant that sort of reaction, I thought you were mocking me, thinking I was disgusting.'  
'Disgusting. How could I think you were disgusting? Hermione it's like someone made a mythical character and then plopped them into modern times. All you do is drink in the world and it's so scary, like you can't get enough of everything there is. And you're so honest. It's terrifying, and it can make me want to cry, but it's amazing. There's nothing fake about you, it's all real, you're so real. And it's not because you're beautiful or because I painted you, it's because with everything I learn about you, I'm begging for more. It's so weird, I've never felt like this before in my li-' She couldn't say anymore, because Hermione, who had been listening to this speech, her smile growing wider and wider with each word, had leaned forward and, with the most adorably delighted expression on her face, eagerly kissed her. 

'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOT A CONTINUATION OF PANSY AND HERMIONE SORRY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, how are you all doing? 
> 
> I'm warning you now, this is not a continuation of Hermione and Pansy. This is just something I thought was fun and is relevant to the story, so I couldn't really post it separately. It's very different from my usual writing style, so it might suck. But ah well, I wanted to post it anyway. Ambrosia Parkinson is Pansy's mother, and on another fan fiction website I've made a whole story around her, not Pansy, just in case you were wondering who on earth the character was. She's not canon, I've made her name and personality up. Of course, the name Parkinson and everything else belongs to JKR and not me. If you're still here by the end of this rant, I hope you enjoy. If you don't, that's also fine, but thank you for taking the time to read it. If you're completely confused, well sorry, basically Pansy's mother died fighting the Death Eaters after betraying her family, which is why she is never mentioned, and why Pansy is such an avid Death Eater in the books (in my imagination anyway, again this is not canon). Because he lost her mother, Pansy's father retaliates by making sure he will never lose his daughter in the same way, thus rejoining the Parkinson family and making her a terrible person. ANYWAY what I've written is like five lines long, I'm waaaaaay overthinking this. It's not like it's Shakespeare or something. Please ignore my rambling and go read.

Ambrosia Parkinson was a song. She flew from one lyric to the next, ablaze with her righteous mission for a better world. The notes that trickled like rain down a windowpane warbled a tune that she danced in time to as she walked along the path of life. Each string of a violin her hair, each whole round note, her eye. The end of every verse was a tender recollection and thanks to the past, for having shaped her. The first chords of the chorus a thanks to the world, for having shaped her. The bass clef caught her when she fell, the treble clef urged her to reach higher, seek more from her life. The song growing longer with each wonderful movement, each glorious struggle that seemed to scream that she was here, this was Ambrosia Parkinson, behold!

The bridge was the moment of hesitation, wondering if this was really the right decision, how she wanted to go. The final chorus a recollection of all that had passed. A last cry, a single tear that fell to the floor as a minim, lasting no longer than a second. Then a dazzling crescendo, as the gun was raised and the sneer of 'You Bitch' echoed through the beating of her heart.  
And like a song, Ambrosia ended. Far too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it was very short so you can probably see this as you're reading the top notes but no matter. Thank you for reading, feel free to comment, or tell me I should never attempt something close to poetry again. Which would be valid to be honest, I'm not a fan of writing poetically. If you are interested however, and want to read more about Ambrosia I'd love to know. Alright, that's that. Have a wonderful day :)

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, hello to everyone who made it to the end and thank you for taking the time to read this! If you're reading this you also could have just scrolled to the bottom because you were bored I'm just going to give you the benefit of the doubt, because I'm just such a generous and forgiving person. I hoped you enjoyed reading it, and if you didn't, here is an imaginary cake to make up for the time you just wasted reading. -----CAKE-----  
> If you liked it or hated it, feel free to comment :) 
> 
> Have a nice dayyyy


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